


Two Months' Notice

by CowMow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Omegle, RP, mythea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowMow/pseuds/CowMow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthea needs to leave her job as Mycroft's PA, and finds another one. Mycroft is not pleased.</p>
<p>Started out as Omegle RP, might turn into more. I love Mythea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Months' Notice

I have found another job, sir. A  
I would like to take up my two months’ notice now. A

Another job with whom? M

Some lawyer, sir. You wouldn't know him. A

And why are you taking it? If it's a salary increase, I'll match it without another thought. M

No, sir, I just think a change of scenery might be... healthy. A

Then take a holiday. M

No, sir, that won't do. A

I am quite determined. A

Tell me what I can do to make you stay. M

Nothing, sir. I really enjoyed working for and with you, but I really should move on to something else. Expanding my horizon, isn't that what they call it? A

I understand. M

Thank you, sir. A

You're leaving in two months, then? M

I will continue until May, then start at Mark's in July, yes. A

Well, thank you for giving me notice. M

Of course, sir. It's in the contract, anyway. A

I didn't expect you to follow it. M

Well, it is good to be surprising now and then. Anyway, you will have a meeting with the PM in twenty minutes. The car will be at the Diogenes in 5. A

Thank you. M

 

Anthea gave a small smile at her phone, and wiped the single stray tear from her face before she took a deep breath and composed herself. Seeing her boss make an effort to keep her in her current job wasn't making things easier, but she knew that leaving surely was healthier. It was every woman's nightmare, wasn't it? Falling in love with her boss had been the least of her priorities.   
She turned back to her computer, and typed out an email for the other employees, to tell them about her decision. She also sent a copy of it to Mr Holmes, then turned back to her work.

Mycroft supposed he wouldn't have noticed how attached he was to Anthea until she was leaving. He had easily maintained his uncaring facade because he did not notice his subtle shift from frozen to thawed. His chest felt heavy -- that wasn't something he'd ever had the displeasure of feeling before. Somewhat deflated. Definitely upset. He had no desire to meet with the prattling PM, but to sit with the door to his office locked and simply not meet with anyone. He told himself what a childish thing that would be to do as he walked out, pulling his coat on. He did not speak to her or, indeed, even look at her when he passed. he couldn't bring himself to.

Anthea, though, looked up and after him, her lips pressed in a thin line. When the door fell in the lock behind him, she sighed and buried her face in her hands. She allowed it only for a few moments before she realised that it was better like this anyway. It was easier to leave if he was like that than when he was all but begging her to stay. She knew the meeting with the PM would last for approximately half an hour, so when she got a text from the driver that they were on their way back, Anthea got up to make some coffee for him. He liked to have his coffee in his office whenever he came back from the PM. It should be worrying, really, how well she had memorised everything. When she went to get the coffee, Linda started a conversation about the emal, and before Anthea knew it, Mycroft was already in his office, and she had cold coffee in her hands.

He had planned to find some way to make her stay, but couldn't bring himself to hold her back. If she wanted to expand from politics to law, who was he to stop her? Who was he to limit her ambitions? Better she be happy and away from him than miserable and with him. He half expected there to be a cup of coffee sitting on his desk when he returned, but wasn't surprised when there wasn't. Things were different now. She was leaving. He would no longer offer his coat when she came to work unprepared and she would no longer predict when he needed coffee. And he didn't need coffee. No, he needed something strong and intoxicating that would take his mind away from her, if only for a bit.

It was with an apologetic look on her face that Anthea knocked on his door a few minutes later. She had made coffee, and had even gone through the trouble of getting him some biscuits as a quiet apology. She always did than when she had messed something up. If he had done something not-good, she would always find two or three chocolates on her desk the following morning. She smiled a bit at the memory, then blinked when she realised he had already called that she could come in.

He did not look up at her with a fond smile like he normally would have, but he could tell from the way she knocked that she was looking to make things right. He'd been about to seek out his cognac decanters when she did and had hurriedly pulled a pile of paperwork awaiting his signature over before telling her to enter -- "enter", not "come in"; they were no longer on friendly terms. He glanced up and nodded. "Coffee -- thank you, Anthea," he said with a short not before turning his attention back to the blank spaces between blocks of text.  
Anthea nodded and put the cup and saucer with the biscuits down on his desk, carefully avoiding the papers. She bit her lip as she looked down at him, feeling awful for leaving. She knew he liked her, appreciated her, but this was better, probably for both of them. "Not a problem, sir," she said, before she cleared her throat. "Anything else you require?"

Mycroft paused after one signature and sighed, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. "Your letter of resignation. Plenty of airy words but never once in it do you give a concrete reason for leaving. In fact, the company to which you are transferring isn't a particularly prestigious one. If you wish to 'expand your horizons' as you put it, why not choose a medium that suits you better? Are you really so eager to leave? Because, if so, then go. Damn the contract. I'll sign a pink slip for you now."

Anthea stared at him, lips parting a bit in shock. "Erm..." Shit, she really should have thought this through a whole lot better. "I want to, erm..." She cleared her throat and looked at anything but her boss's face. "Sometimes you know it is just time to leave," she finally said, the argument sounding weak to her own ears, and she winced. "I like it here, really, sir. I'm not... eager to leave. At all." She closed her mouth, determined to stop talking before she gave too much away, and straightened her back.

He stared up at her, at her embarrassed face, and sighed again. "Oh, go home. It's late," he said after a moment, turning back to his work. He wouldn't try to pry an answer out of her any longer. "Have a good evening, Miss Jones. And do seek better employment. I would sooner die than let you work for someone like Mark Price. A worse attorney was there ever. Go."

Anthea almost obeyed him, but then she changed her mind. "Why would you care where I work, sir? These are my choices, not yours. And you're angry at me for leaving, even though we both know there are many people out there more suitable for the job who can replace me in a heartbeat. You know Gerard?" She looked at her boss and shook her head. "I am sorry if I upset you, sir, but this is about me, and my choices." With that, she turned on her heels and left his office. She grabbed her coat from the peg and put it on before she shoved papers in her bag, tears almost clouding her eyes. Goddamnit! The last thing she wanted was to leave this job after a fight.

Mycroft did not hesitate going after her. He walked silently down the hall and found her shoving papers into her bag to work on at home and he put a hand on her shoulder. "I care where you work because I want you to be successful. If I cannot moderate what you do, I want to be sure you're in good hands. I want you to be somewhere better, and perhaps it's for a selfish reason, but it's still a legitimate wish. I cannot replace you but I can justify losing you, at the very least, if you are better off somewhere else."

Anthea sniffed softly, then discreetly wiped her eyes away and steeled herself. When she slowly turned around, she held her bag between them almost as some sort of shield. When she met his eyes, she couldn't look away if she had wanted to. She would never be better off somewhere else, she would never find a better boss than Mycroft Holmes. She gave a small nod, though, pretending to agree with him. Besides, she started this, didn't she? And she knew Mycroft, he never liked giving up what he considered his. "Thank you, sir," she said quietly. "I just wanted to leave on friendly terms. Please don't be angry at me for leaving." She gave him a small, brave smile. "I wouldn't be able to bear it."

"I'm not angry. It's part of the grieving process, isn't it? Denial, then anger. You're still here for a few more months. I'm sure we'll be perfectly fine by the time you leave. Grant me a bit of time to get used to the idea that you will not be forever mine," Mycroft said, giving her a small smile and a nod and then sighing. "I'm sorry for reacting this way. You know better than anyone that I don't like change and I don't like losing what I consider to be mine." He turned to go back to his office, then paused and turned back, kissing her forehead. "Have a good evening, Miss Jones."

Anthea nodded, her eyes closed the moment his lips left her forehead. When she opened them again, Mycroft was already halfway down the hall. "You too, sir," she called after him, before she turned around to finish packing. The next two months were going to be very, very difficult.


End file.
